tread lightly
by ineedjesus
Summary: "Everyone wants a taste," He tells them, laughing it off as if he couldn't care either way. "But nobody really wants the bill."


The first night they sleep together, it's wonderful. Cassandra sees the universe when they touch her, and for once, it doesn't hurt at all. Jake feels like they make up a masterpiece, brilliant strings of fate woven together. A tragic beauty, and all he wants is to show them safety from their grace.

They fall asleep like they're falling into their perfect little spaces in the world. This is where they belong. At least, that's the truth that beats through Jake and Cassandra's veins.

In the morning, they wake up, and the space in between them is cold and empty. Like a tundra between their hearts, carved out by darkness of which they have no name. And being Librarians, it is not well that they take to unnamed things.

When they ask Ezekiel why he left, they find it's because he assumed that they would regret sleeping with him in the morning. They find it like a dot on a map proclaiming _YOU ARE HERE_ \- with Ezekiel's dot residing on an entirely different map, that is.

"Everyone wants a taste," He tells them, laughing it off as if he couldn't care either way. "But nobody really wants the bill."

"We do." They say in what is practically spiraling unison, and Cassandra watches as his levator labii superioris twitches for exactly three point twenty eight seconds. Then he smiles, but it is not an easy smile. But it is the best they can get, they know.

And so they carry on, and they are happy. They know there is a glacier in one of their hearts, but glaciers melt. However, they do so slowly, with great heartbreak.

"Tread lightly," says the king with a crown made up of words. He sees and he knows, and he knows what he does not know. "Ice is dangerous. Don't drown yourself while straining to see under the surface."

The next time they sleep together, Cassandra feels like the aurora borealis is rippling under her skin, and Jake feels like the crescendo of human passion is finally within his grasp. Ezekiel is more invested, this time, not as desperate and rushed. He has a sincerity in him they've only caught glimpses of. He touches them like it is something sacred. And when they touch him, which they do enthusiastically and with something akin to starvation, he looks like someone blind who has just regained their lost sensation. Someone who now must comprehend an entire realm of the reality they had yet dared dream.

Like funeral bells in the morning, Ezekiel is gone. Again. They wake up and find only loss, and look to each other for answers they are afraid of.

Confrontation comes like routine.

"I didn't mean anything by it," He explains, chewing away on a breakfast burrito. "I had stuff to do. I get up early in the morning, sorry. Nothing personal."

It's a perfectly logical explanation. It would be silly to look beyond it. Not everyone is sentimental and not everyone abhors mornings.

Jake and Cassandra are smarter than to stop at that deconstruction. Take it all the way down, pay attention.

"Tread lightly," Says the warrior who defines themselves as a shield. "Barbed wire fences were not meant to be climbed. It will dig and twist into you, and then it will rip itself free, taking some of you with it in the process."

"Maybe," Cassandra suggests. "We should wait patiently, with understanding, until the gate opens."

Jake was never great at climbing, so he agrees. However frustrating that may be.

They go on a date, and Ezekiel steals Cassandra a beautiful rose from a street vendor. Jake knows better, he watched Ezekiel slip money into the vendor's pocket. And he watches Ezekiel plant the money on the vendor he "steals" a pastry from for Jake. Jake takes it and says nothing, but he hopes the look he gives the other man is enough.

They sleep together again, and this time Ezekiel rides Jake, while Cassandra watches, enraptured. Jake can't blame her, he too is enthralled in the blush that burns over Ezekiel's skin. It's amazing, watching Ezekiel's eyes clench closed, mouth parted slightly open in pleasure. The wrinkles of concentration etched between his eyebrows, dark hair fallen down slightly over his face.

It feels like the perfect symphony to Cassandra, and like poetry to Jake.

And in the morning, the sun rises and the moon disappears. With it, Ezekiel. This time, they don't ask. They take the excuse and they take the patience outside the gate. No matter how much it hurts.

"Tread lightly," says the knight with no court, armor forged of isolation. "You cannot slow a rabbit's heart and you can't drag a raven's wings. Things like that must run or die, fly or fall."

"We aren't looking to build cages." Jake says, in defense of actions not yet performed. Or perhaps already over.

They are together, closer and closer, as time goes by. And every time they spent the night together, Ezekiel was gone in the morning. And everytime it hurts a little more.

Finally, waiting outside the gate drives them to knock. Following repetitive advice, they tread lightly. They tiptoe up to the subject just as Ezekiel tiptoes out of their room before they wake up every morning.

"We love waking up to each other," Cassandra says, running her fingers through Ezekiel's hair while they bask in the afterglow. "And we'd love even more to wake up to you."

Well, perhaps tiptoe is not such a word. Cassandra, despite her appearance, has never been one for delicacy within interaction. Especially these days. Jake bites his cheek in remorse at the directness of her words, and holds his breath, looking to watch Ezekiel take flight.

A breath in. Hesitation. Ezekiel exhaled slowly, looking to the ceiling like it was painted in interest. He does not pull away.

"I run on my own clock." He shrugs. "Always have, always will."

"You run on a lot of things." Cassandra whispers, and Ezekiel turns to see fear and hurt hiding behind her soft words. Then he turns to look at Jake on his other side, and Jake looks away, because he knows his expression betrays the same feelings.

Ezekiel feels a certain needle drive into his heart, and he is all aware that the truth has many parts. They are all Librarians, and they know what they know, and they know what they do not know.

He has come to an impasse, a decision. One that will define his life from this point on. The exact decisions he usually avoids. He's _Ezekiel Jones_ , that is the only definition he has ever allowed himself.

"I'm not the sentimental type…" He attempts.

"It's not about sentiment," Jake says softly, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin of his shoulder. "It's about wanting to be close to each other."

Ezekiel nods, and that's what he wants more than anything. But it's also what he fears the most. He's always been afraid of proximity. He knows now, there is no backtracking, there is no moving forward before facing this. As tiny as it may seem, it is a giant elephant in the room, and in his heart.

It's a moment for decision. And it's a decision his heart is terrified but desperate to make.

He turns to Jake, and kisses him slowly, while reaching behind him to pull Cassandra's arm around him.

"I want to be close to you," He promises, and while they know to an extent he is not lying, they also think it is not the truth. At least, that is what their hearts decide. Not to put faith in what is besides the certain. But they fall asleep regardless, wrapped up in a tangle of limbs and hearts. He will leave in the night, treading lightly out the door, but they can at least cherish his warmth now.

In the morning, the space between Jake and Cassandra is empty and has long gone cold. For some reason they cannot put their fingers on, they are more crestfallen then usual.

"I don't know what I was expecting." Jake muttered, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

They head to the kitchen of the apartment like they do every morning- Jake's apartment, which Cassandra practically lives in at this point - and stop dead in their tracks.

Ezekiel is there, and he is shirtless in front of the stove. He looks up at them as they enter, and he is smiling wider than they've ever seen.

"Anyone up for omelets?" He asks, as if this isn't a milestone, as if their hearts aren't breaking in all the right places. Love surges, giddy relief and joy overflowing through the cracks in their hearts, and Jake and Cassandra move to show him just how close they want to be.


End file.
